When a remote Italian retreat began marketing itself with the slogan “no signal, no screens, no stress,” some thought it was humor. But within months, reservations skyrocketed. The Eremito, a restored monastery in the center of Umbria, costs more than luxury resorts with butlers, but guests are prepared to pay extra for smart rooms and quiet, slow internet.
Across continents, hospitality is beginning to undergo a quiet revolution. In place of the fastest Wi-Fi, hotels are now competing for the most peaceful offline experience. Guests seeking a break from the stress of technology are increasingly visiting properties that intentionally cut the cord. In a time of virtual communication and alerts, the uncommon promise of stillness has become a highly useful luxury.
Why Guests Are Paying Extra for Hotels With No Wi-Fi
| Category | Details |
|---|---|
| Concept | Premium “digital detox” stays designed to promote rest and disconnection |
| Trend Origin | Emerged from wellness travel and sustainable hospitality movements |
| Core Appeal | Freedom from digital overload, mindfulness, and reconnection with self and surroundings |
| Popular Destinations | Eremito (Italy), Stedsans in the Woods (Sweden), Bliss Sanctuary (Bali), Post Ranch Inn (California) |
| Primary Audience | Professionals seeking rest, wellness travelers, creatives, and affluent digital minimalists |
| Market Trend | Growing preference for curated disconnection experiences over constant connectivity |
| Industry Direction | Rebranding “no Wi-Fi” as luxury and intentional living |
| Societal Message | Valuing time, focus, and emotional clarity in an era of distraction |
| Reference |
Digital wellness specialist Claire Barnes, a behavioral psychologist, says “it’s a shift in value.” When they are not utilizing Wi-Fi, many tourists feel as though they have time back. They are not rejecting technology; rather, they are regaining homeostasis. Although it may seem like a new concept, paying more to get less captures the fatigue of a generation that is always connected.
Recent research on hospitality corroborate the irony. A 2019 technology study found that 84% of travelers based their hotel choice on the availability of free Wi-Fi, while 96% of tourists expected it. The same group is searching for deliberate disengagement a few years later. A growing number of travelers are resorting to “mindful isolation,” experts say, due to screen anxiety, remote work fatigue, and post-pandemic burnout.
At Sweden’s Stedsans in the Woods, guests trade wifi for phone-free dinners by candlelight and forest swimming. “A sanctuary for those tired of scrolling through life,” the property’s founders say. Bali’s Bliss Sanctuary encourages guests to put down their electronics at check-in in favor of yoga, journaling, and sound sleep. Some hotels go beyond merely removing Wi-Fi to fill the hole with a calm, human pace and genuine care.
“You notice a remarkable shift within 48 hours,” says Luca Bettini, a hotelier in Eremito. “Angry people arrive and read their emails in the parking lot. They then go back to listening, writing letters, and taking in sunsets. Disconnection is one way to re-connect.
This muted resurgence is part of a broader trend in hospitality that promotes mental clarity as a priority. High-end chains like Six Senses, Aman, and Marriott have begun experimenting with packages that don’t use Wi-Fi as part of wellness itineraries. We refer to these packages as “digital sabbaticals.” These initiatives are particularly inventive in combining mindfulness with design by using diaries instead of screens, meditation mats in place of televisions, and emails with stories shared around communal dining tables.
It’s a paradoxical hotel benefit. By offering less, they’re giving more meaning. According to Bettini, “digital silence has become an amenity and a profitable one.” By presenting the absence of technology as a special luxury, properties that advertise Wi-Fi-free regions usually charge extra. Once free, stillness has made its way into the luxury market, as demonstrated by the fact that a secluded chalet in the Swiss Alps or a minimalist lodge in Costa Rica may cost more than $1,000 per night.
Those who choose to stay there often describe the experience as transformative. Entrepreneur Amelia Grant recalls having no Wi-Fi for a week at a resort in New Zealand and how “at first, I kept reaching for my phone.” But on the third day, I was no longer examining fake warnings. I started listening—to my thoughts, to sounds, to people. Her findings are consistent with the growing number of people attempting to unwind from the pressures of technology.
According to scientists, even a brief moment of seclusion can significantly improve creativity and reduce stress. A cognitive researcher who studies digital burnout, Dr. Jonathan Halpern, claims that “our minds weren’t designed for perpetual connectivity.” “The brain naturally resets when there is no Wi-Fi, which improves focus and emotional regulation.” He describes it as “mental decluttering” for a generation that is drowning in digital noise.
It’s intriguing to observe that this tendency is being noticed by both IT executives and the elites of the arts. Jack Dorsey, a co-founder of Twitter, is famous for taking tech-free, silent retreats. Actress Emma Watson has talked about taking “offline holidays” to relieve the stress of performance. As a result of their impact and the paradox of social media, people increasingly view separation as a desirable lifestyle option that is associated with success rather than rebellion.
The realignment of culture is the main focus of the movement. Connectivity used to stand for promise, but now it stands for control. The hotels at the front of this movement are crafting experiences that, while elegantly wrapped in design-led hospitality, bear many similarities to spiritual retreats. Visitors are gently reminded to look up rather than down, cedar-wood saunas replace commercial meeting areas, and handwritten menus replace QR codes.
Because it redefines luxury as awareness rather than material excess, this approach is particularly innovative. Guests now use clarity rather than facilities to determine how satisfied they are. Barnes claims that “the lack of Wi-Fi feels like permission rather than deprivation.” “Permission to breathe, rest, and think without being distracted by technology.”
Big hotel chains are also beginning to adapt. Some provide “Wi-Fi-free floors,” where guests are free to forego internet use altogether. Others include digital detoxification in wellness packages, encouraging guests to switch off their electronics while eating or receiving spa services. Because it acknowledges that hospitality today encompasses more than just physical comfort, the change is minor but significant.
There’s also a strong economic narrative. Although internet access used to be the great equalizer, online freedom is now becoming a status symbol. A Wi-Fi failure at a remote resort these days signifies exclusivity rather than irritation. The analogy Bettini uses is “fine dining for the mind.” “You take more deliberate pleasure in each moment.”
Some people still cannot afford this luxury of absence. To fully disengage often requires the luxury of knowing that one’s responsibilities will wait. Despite this disparity, mid-range hotels have begun to implement “screen-free hours” and “quiet zones,” democratizing mindfulness in little but meaningful ways.
Beyond just the hotels, this shift is making people think about how connections should improve rather than replace human well-being in a number of industries, such as education and aviation. It acts as a warning that convenience can quietly threaten tranquility, despite its seductive appeal. The fact that tourists now pay more to avoid Wi-Fi demonstrates how far the pendulum has swung.
